The Time
by chlday
Summary: Starts before Chapter 59 of Ignite Me.


There are so many ways today could go. Every second could dart in a different direction, any minute could be the one to shatter everything, each passing hour is unraveling way too fast. I need more time. But time is untamable. We try to cage it in a clock, we try to give it names and numbers, but our efforts are useless. We have no say in anything that will happen today. All we can do is wait and watch and hope.

Everything we've worked for could fracture and fall apart.

Or we could destroy The Reestablishment.

We could have a new beginning.

But only time will tell.

Warner flinches beside me.

He's been flinching a lot this morning. His eyelids are closed but fluttering, and the lower half of his jaw is shifting back and forth. A second passes and another tremor rocks his body.

He must be dreaming.

I wriggle closer, nestling my head against his chest, curling my toes against his toes.

I hope he's having a good dream. I tilt my head up to study his face, and his features are so soft and serene, I figure there's no way a nightmare could be playing out behind his eyelids. No way images of his father's smile, or his mother's agony, or whatever else haunts him could be stirring inside his head.

But Aaron Warner is the master of deceiving features.

I push the thought away and pull the blankets up to my face, burrow my head against his chest and under the covers.

I'm too anxious to sleep.

Our team knows the plan, and we're all tentatively confident, but something could go wrong. There's a wild card out there somewhere, an ace of spades, a joker. But we won't know which card will prevail yet. And when we find out, it might be too late for a Plan B.

God, I just want the assembly to be over.

Warner wakes with a start.

His arms tighten around me and his entire body jolts, he hinges forward, muscles hard as steel. He's gasping.

I place a hand over his heart.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

He shudders. His breathing is uneven as he falls back against the pillow. He pulls one hand away from me, and clamps it across his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut.

I sit up. "Aaron?"

His lips pull up into a smile, but it looks pained. He keeps his eyes closed. "I'm okay, love."

I let my hand slide up to his face, cupping his cheek. "Are you sure?"

He leans into my hand. "Yes."

I wait for him to open his eyes, but he won't. I draw little circles along his cheekbone with my thumb, trying to be patient. Trying to wait.

He takes too long.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

His eyes flutter open and he smiles again. He wraps his arms around me, guiding me back to where I was, curled up against his chest. I don't protest, but I still want him to talk. I want him to tell me. I nudge his chest with my forehead.

"Aaron?"

He threads his fingers through my hair. "Did you sleep well, love?"

I shrug. "Kind of."

He drops a kiss onto the top of my head. "Go back to sleep. You're going to need all your strength today. You should rest as much as you can."

"I can't," I complain. "I tried."

"Keep trying, sweetheart."

"Tell me about your dream."

He breathes in. Breathes out.

I wait.

After a long moment, he chuckles. "It wasn't a bad dream."

I frown. "Then why did you wake up like that?"

And he goes quiet again.

I look up at him. He's gazing down at me, and his smile is content, his green eyes are sparkling. I glare at his beautiful face, and prod at his lips with my fingers.

"There are even more secrets in here than I thought," I say. "I don't like that."

He tilts his head back and laughs. "I love it when you get frustrated with me. You have no idea."

I huff. Cross my arms. And roll away from him.

He's still laughing. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Why should I answer you if you don't answer me?!"

This side of the bed is cold. I don't like it.

But I also don't like secrets.

He's snickering and snickering, and now he's crawling towards me.

"Come on, love. Come here."

I pull my knees up to my chest. "Aaron."

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

His laughter cuts off abruptly. "Of what?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me, turning my body to face him. "Of what might happen today?"

I nod. He sighs. Cups my face in his hands.

"You don't need to worry," he says. "You are going to change this world, Juliette. You're going to change everything."

I lick my lips. "Tell me about your dream."

His eyes protest.

"I don't want to think about the assembly," I whisper. "I want to think about something else. I need to, or else I'll go crazy."

He blinks. And then he kisses me softly.

"Okay, love. But let's move back over there, this side of the bed is cold."

We crawl back to the warm spot, and he cradles me in his arms. His heartbeat is steady and solid against my ear.

He says, "It was actually one of the greatest dreams I've ever had." He places two fingers under my chin and lifts my face until I'm looking at him. The tip of his nose brushes mine. His dimples are showing. "And believe me," he murmurs. "I have had some terrific dreams."

"What was it about?" I ask.

His dimples deepen. "A different time."

I frown. "A different time?"

"A better time. I know it was just a dream, but—" he trails off, shaking his head. "It felt so real."

He looks so thoughtful right now, so content.

I press my lips against his jaw.

He exhales. "You were in it, love."

"Was I?!"

"Yes," he whispers. "You were there. And you were wearing this – this incredibly sharp military coat. It was black with scarlet stitching. And it had brass buttons."

I can't help but giggle. Warner raises an eyebrow. I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I say. "I just can't believe your fantasies are of me in military coats."

He chuckles. "Yes well, I haven't gotten to the fantasy part yet, but you did look great in that coat."

I'm still giggling. "Tell me about the rest of this dream outfit."

"You were wearing tight-fitting black pants. And black leather boots that had stiletto heels. No gloves, though. Your hands were bare. Oh, and the coat was high-collared, did I mention that?"

My giggles give way to a nasally snort. He has such a passion for fashion. I love it.

"What's so funny?"

"You're just adorable."

"What?" he sounds genuinely confused. "How am I being adorable right now?"

I can't stop. I can't stop giggling. "I'm sorry," I gasp. "I'm trying – I'm trying not to—"

He flips me onto my back and straddles my hips. He pins my arms down and leans in, his lips grazing the side of my neck. His lips sweep back and forth, back and forth.

"I don't appreciate being laughed at, love."

It's amazing how fast my mood changes. How quickly my laughter cuts off. How quickly my body responds to his touch.

I clear my throat. "Okay, you can keep going now."

He chuckles breathily. "Keep going? With the story, or—" he presses his mouth more firmly against my neck, and starts sucking my skin. Breaks away. "With this?"

This. "Either."

He smiles. Pulls away to look at me.

"In the dream," he says, "you were standing in a room, and staring out an open window." He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. "You were smiling. And I remember being curious, wanting to see what had created that smile of yours. So I came up behind you. I wrapped my arms around your waist, and I rested my chin on your shoulder – and I looked outside."

The words get caught in his throat. The final syllable comes out strangled.

I brush my fingers across his chest and whisper, "What was it?"

He gives me a flickering grin. "Please don't laugh at me, love."

My throat stings. "Of course I won't."

He shakes his head. "Actually, I wouldn't blame you if you do. It's quite ridiculous, I shouldn't be so worked up right now, it was just a dream—"

"Tell me."

His eyes are searching mine. He swallows. Then finally says, "There was a little boy. Playing in a sandbox."

I stop breathing.

"You see, I told you it was silly," he mutters quickly. "And a little too forward, and unreasonable, I mean we're about to be in the middle of a war – and you've been awake for who knows how long, worried sick, and I—" he shakes his head. "I'm having these dreams. These inappropriate dreams that will probably never happen anyway, and—"

"Don't say that," I whisper. My mind is reeling and the emotion in his eyes – God, it's so heavy and overwhelming, and I suddenly feel so ashamed for laughing at him, because I love this about him. I love the rawness of his passion. I love the thoughts swirling in his mind. I love how his desires for love, for a family – for things he's never truly had, up until recently – those desires are what prevail in his dreams. Not his father's abuse. Not his mother's death. Not the war we are about to start. Or the sands of time that always seem to be piling against us.

He really is worth fighting for.

His life. His love. His dreams.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down onto me.

His eyes are wide. "Juliette?"

"It's not impossible," I say, because he needs to know that. He needs to understand that. "Do you hear me, Aaron? It's not impossible."

He inhales. Exhales.

He whispers, "Okay."

And then his lips find my neck again. He presses two kisses in two different spots, the second one is longer and harder than the first. He does that thing where he sucks on my skin again, and I'm shivering uncontrollably.

He catches my earlobe between his teeth.

I suck in a tight breath.

His fingertips are coasting down my stomach, and the sensation of his skin against mine makes me tingle.

I turn my face and find his mouth, and he kisses me back, so deeply.

I place my hands against his chest and hook my right leg around his hips, rolling him over and onto his back. Now I'm the one straddling his hips and pinning his arms down.

He's gazing up at me through drooping eyelids.

I squeeze his arms.

"You are perfect," I breathe. "God, you are so perfect."

The words set him off.

He launches himself up and off of the pillows, one hand catches the back of my head and the other is circling around my waist, pressing my hips against his, forcing my legs to wrap around him.

His mouth is at my collarbone.

And I'm trying to catch my breath, but I catch a fistful of his hair instead, and I'm gripping it, watching the short strands seep between my fingers.

And I don't know what to expect from the assembly.

I don't know what events today will bring.

But I will fight for us.

I will fight for him.


End file.
